


Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Series: Sterek Bingo 2k19 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff, M/M, Partners in Crime, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Stiles is only at this masquerade party for revenge. Theo Raeken has taken everything from him, and this is the only way he can get close enough to ruin his fucking life. He gets sidetracked by a mysterious stranger who’s looking for revenge of his own. Maybe they can help each other...





	Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jmee (Jmeelee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/gifts).



> For Sterekbingo: Revenge, masquerade, strangers on a train

He’d taken every precaution to make sure that no one would recognize him, not even the people he’d thought of as friends, before everything fell apart. His mask was secured - with a backup in place as well because he didn’t trust Theo as far as he could throw him, which really wasn’t all that far. Because he was just a harmless human idiot with nothing left to fight for. 

The costume was completely unlike anything he’d ever worn before, and unlike anything people would expect Stiles Stilinski to wear. It is form-fitting and restrictive, showing off the shape of his body that he usually hid under layers of baggy shirts and flannel. 

But it wasn’t vulgar - nothing too revealing that would draw too much attention. He was blending in by being who he wasn’t. 

Paranoid? Probably. But it wasn’t like there was no one out to get him. And it wasn’t like there was anyone he could depend on to keep him safe - because all he had left was his father, and he would not allow him to get ruined too. 

Janusz Noah Stilinski didn’t deserve any of this. At least Stiles deserved some of it, because he’d been his typical asshole self to the wrong guy when Stiles was a kid grieving his mother, and the guy had the memory of an elephant and was therefore never going to let it go. Theo Raeken was never going to get over his petty jealousy and hatred for Stiles. 

So he took everything from him, the second he could. Even things that Stiles was sure could never be taken away. Like Scott McCall’s friendship. If they’d survived the Allison on-and-off-and-on back in the high school days, they should have survived this. 

And yet, they didn’t. 

Finding himself near the entrance to keep a close eye on any potentially hostile guests, he fought himself for minutes on end, trying not to fidget and give himself away. Stiles had to stay still, had to keep himself from running his mouth and sounding anything like himself - because while disguising his voice was easy, disguising his distinct vocal cadence was a lot more difficult. He just hoped that there was no one here who was actively looking for him, that everyone had bought him continuing to stay home to lick his metaphorical wounds. 

His entire body was itching to move, even just a tap of a foot or the twitch of a finger. He was happy when the angry voices from the entrance provided a distraction. 

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t thrilled to be here. A broad, muscular man with dark hair that wasn’t covered by his costume was arguing with a random stooge who was only there to keep the riff-raff out. 

Though this guy did not look like riff-raff. His costume was too elaborate, the way he held himself screamed money -  more than Stiles would ever be able to without actually screaming. And that would totally give him away. 

Ugh, even his sense of humor was dead these days. 

“You have to let me in,” the man growled. 

“I do not,” the stooge at the door seemed unimpressed by the guest’s… everything. “You have not produced anything that would convince me to do so.”

So was this a different vendetta that he was walking in on? He didn’t particularly remember most of the members of the Yukimura family, other than sharing a few classes with Kira several years ago. But he probably would have remembered if Kira’d had any issues with any of the other prominent families in town. Drama tended to stick in his mind, for some reason. 

Why on earth would that be? 

“An invitation wasn’t enough?” Another growl as the man’s voice sounded progressively less human. 

“It is,” Stiles had to interfere, like a total idiot. “Hello dear, I’ve been waiting for you.”

The man turned to him then, his posture showing that he was ready to attack whoever dared to interrupt the hostilities. His muscles were clenched tightly, his hands forcibly wide - probably to keep himself from balling them into fists. That was not done in this man’s part of society, which was why Stiles was going for a more Machiavellian plot instead of just beating up Theo Raeken - no matter how satisfying that might be, if he ever landed a punch. 

Stiles was a lover, not a fighter. Or more accurately, he failed at both. 

“Hello,” the voice was not as deep as he thought it would be when attempting human speech. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Clearly the man had no patience for nicknames, but Stiles could work with that for the few seconds they needed to get away from the entrance. The stooge was a lot nicer now that Stiles (well-dressed and polished as he currently was) vouched for the new entry. Which meant that there was totally a story there and Stiles was going to hear it and possibly sway this man to his cause. 

Because someone had to be on his side. 

“I might forgive you,” Stiles played coy, awkwardly flirtatious because that was going to make people dismiss them more quickly. “If you earn it.”

Well that certainly made the stranger blush and everyone else move on. No one wanted to listen in on something like this, which was why it was relatively easy for Stiles to herd the stranger into one of the empty sitting rooms that wouldn’t get much use until much later that night. By that time, people were drunk and in the mood, and they’d take just about anything - or anyone - as long as the room was reasonably quiet and the lights were dimmed. 

“What do you want?” The stranger demanded as soon as the door closed behind them. 

The sounds of the party were dimmed, as if the room had actual soundproofing for no apparent reason. Stiles had never noticed that before - not that he’d actually spent a lot of time in these rooms. He’d never had an excuse to, no one to be indecorous with in places like this one. 

Until now. At least, that was what people would think. If they knew who he was, which they didn’t because he was good at this disguise thing, and wow was he thinking in circles. 

“All I want is the pleasure of your company,” Stiles simpered, batting his eyelashes behind the mask. “No really, I just wanted to help, sir... Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The dark-haired man didn’t look surprised that his first statement was an attempt at humor, but his second statement clearly was surprising to him. He probably had a good reason, because most people wouldn’t have attempted to help him, or been sincere about their desire to help a fellow guest. There would have been incentives required. 

And there was clearly nothing that this guy could give Stiles that he actually needed. 

“We have,” the stranger clearly had something to hide. 

“How would you know?” Stiles had to ask. “I’m in disguise and so are you.”

Sure, perhaps it was hypocritical to get on someone’s case when he himself refused to reveal his identity, but he never much cared about that. Clearly Stiles had actual reasons to be a nameless guest - and this man would never understand. 

But apparently they had met before and Stiles just didn’t recognize him. Which was just pissing him off - Stiles was good at recognizing people. He knew exactly who had been present at the ball before the stranger arrived. 

“I would know.” Those eyebrows were severe enough to make Stiles believe him. 

“Alright then, mysterious brooding not stranger,” Stiles punctuated his statement with a dashing wink at his unnamed partner in conversation. “What brings you to this ball, hiding in the sitting room with a dazzling conversationalist like myself?”

The severe eyebrows made another appearance over the man’s sparsely decorated mask, but it was the bunny teeth that finally got him to make the connection. The man was right - they really had met before. This man was no stranger after all, not completely anyway. Stiles knew those teeth and those perpetually angry brows, knew those kaleidoscope eyes he’d occasionally swooned over as a pathetic teen. 

And yes, swooned over was absolutely code for masturbating a fuckton, thanks. Derek Hale had been wildly attractive back then, and Stiles was pretty sure that hadn’t changed over the last eight or so years since middle school. 

Derek had to be approaching thirty, or just somewhere in his late twenties at least. Cora was the one who was Stiles’ age. 

“Revenge.” Another growl from Derek. 

Ah yes, a like-minded spirit indeed. Succinct, severe, sexy. Exactly the Derek Hale he remembered from way back when his father was the first Deputy on the scene at the Hale fire, and from the awkward years afterwards, when Laura Hale refused to leave Beacon Hills until they’d found Cora. Until Derek finished high school and refused to be there any longer, leaving Laura behind to wait all by herself. 

Even when Cora returned somewhere in Stiles’ sophomore year of high school, Derek only returned to California for brief visits during the holidays. If it hadn’t been for his sister’s death, he probably never would have returned on a more permanent basis. 

Poor Laura. She didn’t deserve any of what happened to her and her family. 

Not that he was going to mention it to Derek - the wound was still so fresh. It had happened not that long ago, a little before Stiles had returned from college with his degree. He’d missed the funeral, but his father attended. He’d missed seeing Derek, too. 

He’d missed seeing an angry, grieving Derek go completely off the rails, according to the local gossip. His father didn’t comment, not a word, which told Stiles all he needed to know. 

Derek was right about who did it. Who did all of it. 

“I can do it, you know,” an idea sparked and he couldn’t let it go. “I can get to her.”

Strangers on a train. Strangers at a masquerade ball that meant no one would be able to tie the two of them together. Strangers who could help each other take revenge, who could provide alibi’s when people came to them. Because of course they were going to be the prime suspect in their own respective cases - but not in each other’s. 

Because no one would ever connect them. 

“What?” Derek continued to be particularly mono-syllabic. 

“Kate Argent?” Stiles made a face as he said that name. “I can take her down.”

How a family like that (he’d met Gerard and hated him instantly, and not just because the man was a terrible principal) could result in a person like Allison was just… stunning. He really missed her, she and Isaac had been in France for too long.

Not that they would have been on his side if they had been here. They were always Scott’s friends first. Everyone was. 

“How? Why?”

Two excellent questions. 

“Because I remember you,” Stiles shrugged, trying not to make a big deal, for once. “Because I think my father believes you. About all of it. And you didn’t deserve this.”

None of them did. There had been children in the house when it burnt, and Laura had never been anything but a staple in the community since she was forced to raise her siblings. And to find that none of what happened to the Hale family had been an accident? It made Stiles all the more angry and ready to dispense some vigilante style justice. 

He was the fucking Batman. 

Derek just looked wrecked. “What if I did?”

“No,” the word was out of his mouth before he’d thought about it, “you don’t. You didn’t.”

But it wasn’t like Derek was actually going to believe him. 

“I’m a werewolf.”

Okay, now that was at least semi-surprising. Not the statement itself, but the fact that Derek was actually telling him. That was not something people told casual acquaintances. 

“Color me not surprised,” Stiles was positively blase about it, like a total tool. “You’ve been growling since I met you.”

“And you immediately jump to werewolves?”

Well, yeah. It was actually kind of obvious. Especially with the claws that Derek could no longer hide, and his red eyes glaring at Stiles from behind the mask. The facial hair was ridiculous, sticking out from the sides of the mask, but the true surprise was the lack of eyebrow. 

There was just, a lot of eyebrow to mysteriously and magically vanish. 

“Come on Derek,” Stiles knew Derek deserved at least an eye roll for that one. “You know I’m from Beacon Hills, this explains a lot of things. I’m not supposed to know any of them, but I’m a curious sort and my Dad has been known to take a couple case files home with him. But it can’t be a coincidence that the crime rate is significantly higher around the full moon, and that we have a lot of animal attacks and no animal sightings. I mean, obviously it’s werewolves.” 

Derek had said that they’d met before, so clearly he should have put all of this together. Fuck, had Derek not put together who he was yet? Had he actually been subtle for once? Had he just been a slightly familiar scent to Derek? Had that been why he said what he said? Had he even connected the scent to the name and the person? Would Stiles have been able to stay anonymous if he hadn’t just spoken up? In his regular voice too. 

Well, he’d surely ruined that by now. At least he could probably trust Derek to be subtle about the flat-out dismissal of him and his abilities, and then they could both move on with their respective tragedies. It was almost a plan. 

“Stilinski.”

“Don’t say my name out loud,” Stiles motioned for his wolfy compatriot to shut the  _ fuck _ up. “I know yours, but I’m not screaming it to everyone,  _ Derek _ .”

The soundproofing was totally a godsend at this point. No one was screaming, but they were discussing some seriously sensitive information, and they’d both be ruined (even more than they already were) if any of this got out. 

For now, though, they could help each other. Hopefully. Maybe. 

“What do you want?”

Straight-forward, to the point. Very Derek Hale as he remembered him. Not that he actually knew all that much about the guy - they were basically strangers. Which was why this even worked - or had the potential to work. 

“The same thing as you do,” Stiles shrugged, trying not to get too dramatic about his gestures. “Revenge. I can’t get near him. He knows everything about me, it seems. Stalker.”

That asshole had done his research, and while Stiles wasn’t in any way stupid, he couldn’t fight all of the evil itself all by himself. Still, there was a risk in letting anyone else in on the truth - because what if Derek didn’t believe him either? What if this was a trick? What if Theo knew about his stupid teenage crush from way back when? What if he was using that perceived weakness to finally finish Stiles off? So many what-ifs and questions. 

“Who?” Derek just looked at him, and it was too easy to answer. 

A weakness, indeed. 

“Theo Raeken,” he barely raised his voice over a whisper, paranoid and trembling. 

Fear really was a total… dick like that. 

“Don’t know him,” Derek’s eyebrows were set to pensive. “I’m sure he’d want to get to know Cora. Easy.”

No questions? Derek wasn’t even going to ask him what his enemy had done? He wasn’t going to question this at all? It should have felt too easy, but instead it just felt like relief. Maybe someone else could be on his side, maybe there was someone else that he could share the burden with - because he was never going to involve his father. 

“Dude,” the words just came out on a sigh, “I think I love you.”

All he got in response to that was awkward silence, and the hint of a blush on Derek’s cheeks. It was reckless, but he didn’t want to take back the words. Derek hadn’t gotten angry and left, hadn’t made some comment meant to re-establish his own masculinity. There had been no “no homo” from either of them. Not that it meant anything other than that Derek wasn’t an asshole like some people. It meant that he really was shy. 

“You haven’t even asked me why,” his compulsion to fill the silence couldn’t be pushed down, “you are just on my side. Just like that. No one is on my side. Scott isn’t even on my side.” 

Of course there was more silence. But Stiles was finally talking like himself again, no longer having to hold back for fear of being recognized. He could use his own voice and his own words, however many he wanted to use. 

And Derek was still going to help him, and Stiles was still going to help Derek. 

“And you don’t even know who Scott is,” he’d been choking on a waterfall of words for hours on end. “Well, a long time ago, we used to be friends. Or, you know, not that long ago, up until a few months ago when he believed that manipulative fuck over his life-long best friend. Like, kindergarten life-long. Because that dickweed Master of Whispers-ed just long enough, and with just enough subtlety, that it was believable to everyone. Even Scott. Because apparently even he knew that Stiles Stilinski was never going to be worth shit.”

He didn’t want to believe it - because he was kinda awesome and people used to be able to see that - but everyone else sure seemed to believe every single lie told about him. All of the harmless mischief from childhood turned into a prelude to evil, to him corrupting that poor McCall boy and how Malia was lucky that she’d traded up. That he was a burden on his poor father and seriously harming his odds at getting re-elected. 

That last one was the real kicker. The other ones just pissed him off. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek finally spoke. 

Stiles really was, especially for trying to hear some fondness in Derek’s straightforward tone.

* * *

 

It turned out that it really was much easier to take revenge on behalf of someone else. 

Kate remembered him - because she was a gross old lady who remembered high school boys very clearly. And he was high school-aged when she lived with her brother and Allison. She came to help out after Victoria Argent died, and just stuck around to be creepy to all teenage boys for years on end. 

He never thought he’d be grateful for that. 

Between her constant sleaziness (so eager to get more intel on Allison, who’d vowed never to speak to her again) and how easy it was to bribe Matt Daehler, and get that asshole Harris drunk and talking… Stiles had all the information he needed in a matter of weeks. He kept Derek apprised of his progress through heavily encrypted emails from secret accounts and notes dropped off in trees in the preserve. 

Derek’s side of the plan took a little more finesse - because when it came down to it, he did have the more formidable foe. But even Derek’s progress was good, getting Cora in on the plan seemed to be making him even more productive. Cora had declined Derek’s offer to let her meet Stiles, but she was happy enough to get revenge for him while Stiles exposed Kate for the slime she was. 

While Cora focused on faux-seduction, Derek handled a different kind of exposure. The research kind, involving pictures that Theo never wanted to get out (look, a third kind of exposure as well). Everyone had their skeletons in the closet, and Theo’s were worse than most - experiments on people who hadn’t known what they were signing up for. 

Liam’s girlfriend was one of them, apparently, and he couldn’t even reach out to his friends to do anything about it. Not openly anyway - he had to rely on Derek’s expertise. 

Okay maybe he sent an anonymous note or two that probably saved Hayden’s life, but he wasn’t going to brag about that. Because he had no one to brag to after his father had patted him on the shoulder and smiled proudly at him. 

Shit, it was so nice to make his dad proud again, instead of just making him worry all the damn time. And he had Derek to thank for that. 

He just wished he could thank Derek in person. And okay, he’d had some dreams about how he’d thank Derek if the guy way in any way receptive to it. 

“Are you mooning after the Hale boy again?” 

His father knew him so well. 

“Well, I do my best mooning in private,” Stiles grinned, knowing that would end the inquiry. 

And it did. 

“Stiles, I really don’t want to know.” 

His dad was looking down and hiding his face, as if unable to look at his son. Well, mission accomplished. Normal father-son interaction with plenty of embarrassment. 

“It’s good to see you happy,” his dad got all sappy about it too. 

“Not happy enough for you to get any bacon,” he warned in return. “It’s almost done, I think. This whole thing. Which is good, because I was not made for the subtle and solitary life. Not that exposing that douche means that everyone’s just going to take me back.” 

That would suck, if he managed to get everything cleared up and people still thought he’d done what Theo claimed he did. If Scott would never return to his side… If it turned out that revenge wasn’t the answer at all - which it was, because the sheer epicness of the plan alone made it the perfect answer. It was going to make an awesome tale, once he was free to tell it. 

Scott was going to be so impressed. 

“You don’t have to forgive them if they do,” his father just had to drop that bomb. 

But how could he hold grudges? Oh, he could, and was very capable of it - but doing so was just going to leave him alone again, since he doubted that Derek was going to stick around after the big reveal that they had planned. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Derek left the area altogether and moved to the other side of the world to get away from it all. He wouldn’t blame him either. 

“Oh, son, this came for you,” Dad tossed a piece of paper at him. 

It was folded like fucking origami, because that was the kind of doofus that Stiles had aligned himself with. Apparently if people thought it was just something pretty, they wouldn’t actually look for the words hidden within. Derek called it strategy, and Stiles just called it showing off skills that Stiles himself would never possess. 

Last time had been a swan - he’d hated opening that one. This one was another kind of critter, so he was fine with it. 

He opened the note and grinned.

_ It is time.  _

Short and sweet. Typical Derek. 

“Sorry Dad, I can’t stick around. I have a costume to buy.”

* * *

 

This time, the masked ball was at the rebuilt Hale house (mansion, if you asked Stiles). And plenty of people showed up, if only to get a piece of the drama that they could sense was building in Society. 

Which meant that people had finally figured out that something was going on. It had only taken them several months. Several long, long months that Stiles had to spend away from Derek, something that had turned out to be surprisingly difficult. 

And that didn’t even have anything to do with how gorgeous Derek was (ugh, his outfit tonight was droolworthy), and everything to do with his dry wit and his passion and loyalty. Yes, Stiles had once again fallen hard for someone who was never going to love him. It was just part of the status quo for him now. He’d pine until he found someone else to pine over. 

It was the circle of… love? 

Ugh, he couldn’t get distracted by Derek’s everything when this was the culmination of their entire plot. This was the moment, this was the time when they would finally expose the villains of this tale for who they really were. 

Stiles tried not to fidget with the mask - a different one than last time, of course - as he waited for Cora to start the proceedings. After this, they had to meet, they simply had to. She helped save him, and he helped save her, and if Derek was actually going to stick around, maybe they could all be friends after this. 

Sure, he would have preferred more than friends for him and Derek, but he was realistic. All he was getting was a mostly gratitude-based friendship. That was the best he could do. 

“Welcome, guests, to the first annual reinstated Hale Ball,” Cora was every bit the hostess, even hiding behind a delicate mask. “This will be a night to remember. Years ago, our parents hosted parties just like this, and finally we are in a position to honor their legacy. Earlier tonight, the person responsible for the Hale fire was finally arrested, after several of her accomplices confessed. So tonight, we are free, and we will celebrate.” 

Gasps all around, because clearly the news hadn’t made it to everyone yet. Maybe it was because Stiles was so close to the action (and the local Sheriff), but he’d heard it bright and early that morning. And he’d been bouncing around the house ever since, dancing and jumping and waiting for this very ball, having to contain himself from not getting there hours early. Even using all of his restraint hardly kept him from being the first person there. 

“Kate Argent,” he heard one woman whisper to another. “The Hale boy was right after all. I saw that attractive young deputy drag her away in handcuffs just this morning.” 

Vindication tasted like expensive champagne, or maybe that was just actual champagne. And Derek really had sprung for the good stuff. 

“You don’t say,” a familiar voice, from behind a fan. 

Lydia Martin was dressed in perfect period garb, and her sharp gaze only passed Stiles so briefly because the gossip was much more interesting than the guests. That and he wasn’t gazing at her in perfect adoration like he usually was. No, that bubble had burst quite easily when the smartest woman he knew revealed she never had faith in him at all. That she didn’t see through a trick thought up by a douche so much dumber than she was. 

Though Lydia always had a soft spot for pretty douche boys. 

“Did you like my speech?” Stiles suddenly found himself in front of Cora Hale. 

“You are much better at talking than your brother is,” he pitched his voice lower, because he couldn’t give himself away before the big reveal. “But you are just as dramatic.” 

She was not offended, clearly, and took the words as they were intended, as a teasing compliment. He had a ton of other things to say to her, about how beautiful she looked and how he hoped that she was at peace now, and some more jokes about her brother to deflect how much he’d grown to care about Derek from a distance. 

But he couldn’t be himself yet, so he wasn’t allowed to ramble. 

“I’m glad you’re as fond of him as he is of you.” Cora’s impish grin showed through her mask. 

Cora’s mask was more of a formality really, because the delicate lace showed most of her recognizable features. It meant that it was not only not adequate at hiding her identity, but also inadequate at hiding her emotions. Her genuine delight was getting to him. 

“Shut up,” he muttered. 

“I can tell you’re blushing,” Cora was gloating as they moved across the floor, Stiles almost graceful for once. 

He’d been practicing - at home, where his father laughed at him whenever he tripped. Cora wasn’t the one he’d been practicing for, though. But Derek had other things to keep him occupied for a little while. At least until that viral video of Theo Raeken made its way through at least half the guests. 

The chatter was increasing in volume, so maybe it was about that time. 

“No, you can’t,” Stiles refused to let Cora win. “I’m wearing a mask.” 

There was no way that his blush was visible - of course he was actually blushing, he got blotchy just at the thought of Derek these days, and it was embarrassing enough when it was just his dad who noticed. Oh well, it was worth it if Derek still wanted to be his friend. 

Cora wiggled her nose. “Werewolf.” 

Now that was just patently unfair. The Hales already had the superior genes advantage. But of course they had to have the supernatural smell advantage too. Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn’t actually dancing with Derek (yet?), because the scents he had to be secreting told a story that Derek probably wouldn’t be all that interested in. 

And yet, Derek walked right up to him with a smile on his face, his mask barely hiding anything more than his sister’s did. Subtlety was not a Hale trait on this happy night. 

“Can I have this dance?” Derek plucked him from Cora’s grasp so easily. 

“Derek,” he spluttered like the awkward teenager he no longer was.  “Yes.” 

Of course he just about tripped over his own feet then, and it was only Derek’s strong grip that kept them both on their feet and moving to the music. People started staring at them right away, because it was obvious who Derek was, and Stiles was a mysterious stranger who’d danced with both Hale siblings now. With all the drama and scandal that had already occurred today, people still craved more - and they would probably get it. 

If Stiles could keep from making a fool of himself for another dance or two. Or until Cora announced that everyone was to take off their mask. They didn’t set a time for that, just some time after they knew their plan had worked. 

And knowing Cora’s flair for Drama, she was going to speak up at the perfect time, when secret affairs were out in the open and embarrassment was available for all. 

“Thank you,” Stiles couldn’t look Derek in the eye while he said it. 

“No, thank  _ you _ ,” Derek returned, barely even out of breath. 

“Don’t,” Stiles was ready to interrupt anything else Derek could have said. “You didn’t have to hear me out. You really didn’t have to do anything for me in return. You didn’t owe me anything, and you stayed and listened to my rambling, and you fixed my dad’s reputation and got me my life back. You could have turned around and told everyone about me, and they would have accepted you as one of them. People are that easy.” 

Following the rhythm of the song was easy too, at least with Derek’s strong arms around him. He felt almost safe, even with all of these people watching them so closely and waiting for him to screw something up so they could have their shot with Derek. 

“You’re wrong,” Derek tried to make Stiles look at him. 

If he looked at Derek, he’d want to stick around, and he couldn’t. He might start thinking that Derek was as interested in him as he was in Derek. Pulling him closer than strictly necessary, that was a coincidence, and everything else was wishful thinking. 

“Esteemed guests,” Cora’s voice was once again amplified. 

Oh no. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do it. His hands were shaking and people were staring, desperately wanting to know who he was and he was just going to be a disappointment. 

“Take off your mask,” Derek ordered, like he was a damn royal. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he started, and then he couldn’t stop. “Because just because people know what he’s done now, doesn’t mean that they all suddenly like me again. I can just sneak away quietly and let you have your triumph alone. Because I’ll ruin it.” 

Where did all of his confidence go? He used to have that, or he thought he did. Maybe he just has to watch the Theo video a couple more times - that might make him feel better about how awesome he is. But he could just do that in the privacy of his home so that Derek could celebrate with the people he actually wanted to spend time with. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek’s voice was so damn fond. “Take it off so I can kiss you properly.” 

“Oh.” 

Wow, what a pathetic response. But Derek didn’t seem to mind, because he took his own mask off, and then started fiddling with the strings on Stiles’. And continued to fiddle with them, because apparently Stiles had knotted them up awkwardly. 

“Just rip it,” he sighed. “I don’t care.” 

Shit, if it got Derek to kiss him, he’d burn the damn thing. 

It took Derek’s werewolf strength - ugh, so hot it’s unfair - but then Stiles’ mask was on the floor. Someone was probably going to step on it, but Stiles was too distracted by the way Derek’s hand cupped his cheek and pulled him close, and then just stopped. 

“Rude,” Stiles huffed and bridged the last couple of inches. 

His lips met Derek’s - surprisingly soft, even though Stiles was definitely going to have beard burn all over his face in the morning. One kiss turned into two turned into three and suddenly there was tongue involved and Stiles was flailing just to get even closer to Derek. 

Could he just jump up and wrap his legs around him or was that too much for a public ballroom? 

He was just about to try it anyway when someone bumped into them. 

“Stiles, dude, I am so sorry,” his best friend managed to interrupt the best kiss of his life. 

“Scotty,” Stiles grinned helplessly, because of course he did, “your timing is still terrible.” 

While he really did want to kiss Derek against right fucking now, having Scott apologize was also a glorious moment that he did not want to miss out on. Looking back and forth between Scott and Derek, he was struck with a true Sophie’s choice moment. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek nodded, taking a step back. “We’ve got all the time in the world. Come find me later.” 

Oh, he definitely would. This was not over. 

“Stiles!” Lydia joined Scott, her usual composure completely gone. “What the hell? How did you manage to get Derek Hale to notice you and expose Theo at the same time?” 

Of course Lydia was the first person to tie him to the revenge scheme. That did not matter though, because there was no proof. No actual physical proof, and no statements that anyone would believe or that would matter. Kate could swear up and down that Stiles had manipulated her, but no one would care because she’d murdered a house full of people. And Theo could do whatever the fuck he wanted, but society was never going to forgive him. 

And no one would tie Theo’s downfall to Stiles, and no one would connect Kate’s arrest to Derek. Because they’d played it smart this whole time - smart enough for even Lydia to be a step behind them both. And now it was done, and they could celebrate. 

After his friends apologized and maybe groveled a bit, and tried to get an explanation out of him that he was never going to give them. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles batted his eyelashes innocently. 

It probably made him look like an idiot, but why the heck should he care? He won. 

Derek was standing within werewolf hearing distance, and so Stiles turned to him and grinned, because Derek got it. Because they did this, together. They won. 


End file.
